


Toy Truck

by JustAnotherNinetiesBitch



Category: Dallas (TV 1978), Dallas (TV 2012), Dallas - All TV Series
Genre: Gen, Mother-Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:00:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23655742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherNinetiesBitch/pseuds/JustAnotherNinetiesBitch
Summary: CBS-series, Season 12.The moment referenced during Ann and Sue Ellen's conversation in "False Confessions" (TNT Season 2, Episode 4):"I had some experience with a child who hated my guts.""Was it that bad with John Ross?""I have a scar from when he threw a toy truck at my head."
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Toy Truck

“You - - _you_ shot my daddy?”

There it was - not the sadness, nor the fury but the disappointment in her sons eyes. John Ross had been the only reason she and Nicholas were at J.R.’s apartment that fateful day but blind panic momentarily erased him from her mind when she shot at J.R.; she certainly wouldn’t have done so if there was a moment to consider the impact upon their son.

“Why?” John Ross demanded of his mother in a most incredulous voice. Guns were _violence_ and it was so difficult to correlate that with the warmth of the woman who tucked him into bed with a tender kiss and fairytale. He recalled the moment Calhoun shot his father and the bravery he had shown in his most defenceless state. John Ross battled to comprehend how his mother could have done the same. What could his father have done to possibly deserve such callousness?

“John Ross,” Sue Ellen lowered herself to his level, “Your father murdered a very dear friend of mine.”

His world imploded a little more and John Ross adamantly shook his head, “No way.” His father would never - “You’re a liar.” He wrenched himself from his mothers reach and sought refuge in his room of the hotel suite she had booked them into until she sourced a permanent home. It was littered with new toys - materialistic bribery, so he wouldn’t demand she return him to Southfork - and John Ross kicked one of the teddy bears from his path.

“John Ross,” his mother rapped her knuckles on the door that had been slammed in her face and beckoned him from the other side. When no response came, she entered to discover the little boy curled up on the floor by the bed. “Sweetheart -”

“I hate you.”

Those three little words held such power and they winded Sue Ellen, so much so that she battled for air to breathe. Their relationship had hit a definitive bump in the road and Sue Ellen could hardly fault him for his resentment. “I know how hard this must be for you,” she switched tactic.

“I want to see my daddy,” John Ross refused to meet his mothers eye. “I want to see Grandma.”

“Your father is still in the hospital,” she softly shook her head in refusal. “You can’t visit Southfork either - - not for a while, anyway.” The custody battle was bound to turn nastier than the first time she divorced J.R. and his power in Braddock County rendered Southfork a no-entry zone until she secured sole parental responsibility of their son. “You can call Grandma whenever you like. All you have to do is pick up the phone.”

John Ross furiously seized the nearest viable weapon in his reach - a toy truck - and propelled it in her direction. The heap of plastic came into contact with his mother and scraped a fine piece of skin from the right side of her forehead where blood consequently surfaced. John Ross panicked, promptly filled with remorse, and swallowed the lump in his throat. “Mama…” Sue Ellen delicately touched the cut and appraised the pool of red that oozed from her wound and drizzled down to her cheek. Whether it was the shock or build-up of emotion that she had battled to suppress, Sue Ellen finally allowed the tears to spill. John Ross stiffened when his mother buried her head in her hands and started to cry. His eyes widened still, as her cries escalated into the kind of sobs that knotted your stomach. He had witnessed his mother cry many times but _never_ by his own hand and he hated himself for it. “Mama, I’m sorry,” he scrambled to his feet and forcefully threw both arms around her waist.

Sue Ellen fell to her knees and pulled John Ross as close as physically possible, until he had all but suffocated in her abundance of loose curls. “It’s okay, I’m the one who's sorry,” she whispered between attempts to compose the rate of every breath. “I love you, sweetheart.”

She prayed _one day_ they would look back and smile at the memory of the silly scuffle and the scar his toy truck had left behind.


End file.
